


This Charming Man (when the charm hits the fan)

by chicklette



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, But they switch, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, D/s overtones, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Shrunkyclunks, Top Bucky Barnes, accidental feels, bucky pines so hard, face fucking, with an hea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 23:41:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicklette/pseuds/chicklette
Summary: When Bucky sees the gorgeous blonde at the gym, all he can think is how much he wants to get his mouth on the guy.  He's not one for relationships, preferring to get out before feelings get involved.  So he can't really be blamed for not understanding this weird ache in his chest, can he?





	This Charming Man (when the charm hits the fan)

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to thatsmysecret and bk_betty who held my hand and shook pom poms while I drama queened my way through writing this.
> 
> Buffy is beta goddess. Any mistakes are mine.

_**Now** _

“I love you.” Bucky whispers the words, soft in the still of the night.

Steve lays beside him, already breathing deep and heavy with sleep, the way he does after they’ve gone ten rounds between the sheets.  Looking down at Steve, Bucky’s eyes linger on the lay of Steve’s lashes against his cheek, his mouth – lips full, and lush, and perfect.   Lips he’s going to have to kiss good-bye, and soon.

It’s been a good run, he thinks to himself, pressing a kiss to Steve’s shoulder.  It’s going to hurt like hell to let this man go.

.

**_Then_ **

The Brooklyn Kickboxing Boxing Club is one of Bucky’s favorite places to work off some steam.  He’s been coming here since he moved to Dumbo a few years ago, after his graphic design business finally took off.  He’s waiting for his turn in the ring and eyeing the slice of grade-A beefcake that’s currently sparring with a trainer.  

He’s noticed the guy training here before – usually at the bag, or now and then, working with one of the trainers.  Hard not to notice a guy like that – tall, blonde and solid muscle.  He is exactly Bucky’s type.

As the trainer exits the ring, Bucky steps in and offers to go a few rounds.  Kickboxing’s something he took up to get through undergrad, and now it’s a part of a bigger routine that keeps him sane.  This, running, and fucking – they all serve to get him out of his head and focused on something that’s not just his own bullshit.  All the lean muscle that it’s added to his body only makes him love it more.  He was on the lithe side growing up.  Now he’s got some brawn behind his swagger.

He scrubs a hand through his hair and then the stubble on his face.  His hair’s a little too long on top now, and he’s due for a cut, but overall, he knows he looks good.  Good enough to interest the blonde?  That’s worth finding out.

Bucky’s about halfway through his normal routine, coaching the other guy along when it dawns on him just how strong this guy was.  After that, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s sparring with Captain America, a realization that only spurs him on to working harder at holding his own.

By the end of the last round, the guy has a smirk that won’t quit.  Bucky thinks he wouldn’t mind wiping it off the guys face, preferably with his dick.  Steve finally introduces himself proper, and tells Bucky to hit him up anytime.

When he spots Steve in the locker room, thin white towel around his waist, Bucky can’t stop thinking about getting his mouth on the guy.  He can’t help it.  Captain America has miles of pale skin that runs gold where the sun hits it, all stretched over bunching muscles that are enough to make Bucky a little foggy with want.

Soaping up, Bucky notices a couple of sly looks – Bucky peeking only to find Steve peeking back – before he finds himself moving into Steve’s space, looking up into dark blue eyes that show surprise before it gave way to hunger, skin sliding slick in the warm spray of the water.

.

A few weeks later, Bucky and Steve are on Bucky’s couch, with Bucky on Steve’s lap, kissing him deep, lazy and slow.  He’s noticed that Steve likes this – like it when Bucky sets the pace for things, but he’s not sure what that’s about.  Not that he minds.  Bucky’s always preferred to be in the driver’s seat.  Vulnerability has never been his strong suit.

They’ve gotten past hand jobs in the showers and blow jobs on the benches, and Jesus fuck does Steve look good on his knees.  It helped that Steve all but preened when Bucky said as much.

As Bucky slides off Steve’s lap to kneel between his knees, he can’t help but notice the look of hunger on his face.   

“What?” Bucky asks, nosing against the line of Steve’s cock, before pressing his open mouth against it through Steve’s jeans. “Anything.  I’ll give you anything you want.  You just gotta ask.”

And Steve - god, his face.  

“Anything,” Bucky repeats.

“You,” Steve says.  “I want - God, I want  - I want you to fuck me.  Will you fuck me?”

Bucky’s breath leaves him in a gust.  “Bed.  Bedroom.  Now.”  He’s already standing, pulling Steve up with him, mouth hot and hard on Steve’s as they stumble down the hallway.

Once in the bedroom, Bucky takes his time.  Soon, he’ll come to learn what Steve likes: the twist of his fingers or a stinging bite, the way Steve likes his hair pulled and how much he loves to hear how pretty he is.

Now though, Bucky gets to discover the man before him.  It’s his favorite part of any intimate relationship – finding out the best way to unravel the person he’s with.  Bucky wants to give it all to Steve, give it to him easy, because God, Steve is easy to be good to.

Later, as the sweat cools, Steve starts to make noises about his job, and getting close.  It’s almost funny how uncomfortable he seems.

Looking up at him with a smirk, Bucky says, “Relax, pal.  Last thing either of us wants is some kind of romance, am I right?”

The look of relief on Steve’s face – God.

It pulls a chuckle out of Bucky, which becomes a laugh when he sees Steve looking vaguely insulted, and ends with the two of them rolling in the sheets, trying to see who can bring the other off fastest.

It’s good.  It’s really good.

Later that night, as he closes the door behind Steve, Bucky mentally high-fives himself.  He’s got a regular hook up with a gorgeous man, his business is booming, and his baby sister is pregnant again. He can’t think of much more he could want out of his life.  It’s an embarrassment of riches.

.

**_Now_ **

Steve’s breathing deep and easy beside Bucky, his light snore punctuating the silence.  Bucky watches him in the moonlight, soft and easy in sleep the way he so seldom is when he’s awake.  It makes Bucky feel punched out and hollow, and there’s an ache to let Steve stay this way – to keep him this way.  It’s hard to tamp down.

Christ, the number of times he’s seen Steve actually let go and enjoy himself – they’ve been few and far between, and it’s felt like a privilege every time.

.

**_Then_ **

“You busy?” Steve asks, and Bucky’s whole being perks up. Steve’s been off to somewhere – he won’t say – for the last two weeks and while Bucky could have picked up the pretty, petite blonde woman who was eyeing him up at the deli, instead he’d bought a week’s supply of sandwich goods before heading home to make do with his hand.

“Just hanging out,” he answers, tucking the phone into his shoulder, and picking up yesterday’s mail from the coffee table.  “Come on over,” he says, and steps into the bathroom to run the hot water.

By the time Steve gets there, Bucky’s dry and dressed in clothes that are easy to get out of.  He’s not trying to put on airs for the guy – he knows they’ll both be naked within minutes of Steve walking in the front door.

When he opens his front door though, what he sees – that isn’t Steve.  It’s some kind of wraith,

looking drawn and pale and like he’s seen civilizations crumble.  Hell, Bucky hasn’t had the news on today – maybe he has.

“What the hell?” Bucky asks, pulling Steve into his apartment.  Bucky can see the scrapes and bruises that are already healing.  There’s a long, ragged scar near Steve’s still-damp hairline.  At least he’s had a shower.

“You hungry?” Bucky asks, and Steve blinks, looks at Bucky, and sees him for the first time that night.

“Starving,” he says, eyes beginning to warm.

Two sandwiches and a pint of potato salad later, Steve leans back against Bucky’s couch.  He looks absolutely exhausted and Bucky resists the urge to drag the guy to bed, tuck him in and read him goddamned story.

Instead, he pulls up Netflix and they lose themselves in a couple of hours’ worth of Parks and Rec.  When Bucky looks over, Steve’s grinning and then giggling at the screen.  A tension inside of Bucky eases at that. It’s not often he sees Steve looking so…young.

“Better?” Bucky asks, his voice soft.  He wiggles his feet under Steve’s thigh.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his voice low and deep. He wraps a hand around one of Bucky’s calves.  “Thanks, Buck,” he says, and lets out a soft laugh a moment later, having gone back to watching the show.

When the next episode sets to cue up, Bucky leans over to ask Steve if he wants anything from the kitchen.  Steve looks at Bucky and there’s something feral in his glance.

“Yeah,” he says, before he turns and prowls over Bucky, pressing him back into the  couch.  “This okay?” he asks, but he doesn’t have to.  Bucky’s already pulling him down for a kiss, hot and needy and deep.

“What do _you_ want?” Steve asks.  “Anything,” he says, throwing Bucky’s words back to him.  “Tell me anything.”

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat then.  Something’s off – something feels…he can’t put his finger on it, and then he forgets to think because Steve is grinding down on him and mouthing that spot on his neck that runs straight to his cock.

“Knees, baby,” Bucky says.  “Want you on your knees.”

It leads to Bucky pulling Steve’s hair, holding him in place while he fucks Steve’s mouth.

“Jesus, you’re perfect,” Bucky breathes.  “Just like that, sweetheart.  Look at that pretty mouth.”

Steve whines and Bucky feels the vibrations of it down his cock.  When Bucky comes, Steve pulls back at the end, letting the last bit spurt across his face.  He looks delicious and debauched and Bucky doesn’t waste any time, climbing into his lap for a deep, dirty kiss.  He licks his spunk off Steve’s face, and isn’t at all surprised when Steve kisses the taste of it right out of his mouth.

Later in the bedroom, Steve watches Bucky prep himself with hungry, half-lidded eyes.  Bucky rides him hard and fast, and at one point, Steve is barely holding on, strung out on the pleasure.  Curious, Bucky snakes a hand across Steve’s throat.  His eyes widen, but when Bucky moves to pull away, Steve reaches up, and holds it there.  Bucky’s not even pressing, but Steve comes hard, body bowing with his orgasm.  When it’s over and he’s sleepy and sated, he curls into Bucky’s arms, nuzzling against his neck.

“I really needed that,” he says. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Not sure what you’re thanking me for.  You did all the work.”

“Shut up and take the compliment,” Steve says.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.  “Hey,” he says, pulling back so that he can look at Steve.  “You ever do something like that before?” he asks.

Steve flushes deep, not needing to ask what Bucky’s talking about.  “Not…not for a long time,” he says, not quite meeting Bucky’s eyes.

“Hey,” he says, tilting Steve’s chin up, forcing him to meet Bucky’s eyes.  “I’m not opposed, pal.  You looked fucking gorgeous.  But if you want more than that, we gotta talk about it.  This doesn’t work unless it’s good for both of us, okay?”

Steve flushes scarlet, but nods.

Two weeks later Steve asks Bucky to do it again, taking Bucky’s hand in his and laying it against his throat. It becomes a shortcut to Steve’s orgasm, and Bucky gets good at figuring out when Steve needs that kind of release – needs to get out of his head so that he can get back into his skin.  Bucky can sympathize.

It’s something Bucky is happy to do.  Getting Steve off is a high in and of itself:  all of that power, yielding. It’s heady, and it’s second only to the way Steve looks after – clear eyed, his face open and soft.  It feels like the least Bucky can do.

.

**_Now_ **

Turning onto his side, Bucky tries for sleep, but he knows it’s no use.  His mind is tumbling, trying to figure out exactly how it was he got here – the last place he’s ever wanted to be, with the only person he’s ever wanted like this.

Bucky’s never been the kind of guy to fall easy.  He’s always been a charmer, be it with men or women, and he’s always been right up front with the fact that he’s not looking for anything long-term.  He figures that someday a permanent relationship will appeal to him.  Hell, Becca’s got it all – the house, the dog, the 2.5 kids, and she’s happier than he’s ever seen her.  He gets the appeal of it, and he always figured someday he’d get there.  But since he can remember, the idea of settling down, of giving himself to just one person, forever?  It chafes, like a rash.

Except.

Except for now.  He could go to bed every night with Steve there beside him, and wake up that way every morning, too.  Now it’s the idea of not having him, his easy smile and smart mouth, that’s making Bucky break out cold and clammy.  How did this happen?

.

**_Then_ **

After a while, things settle into a routine.  They meet at the boxing club to spar before heading out – usually to Bucky’s place – to work off any unspent energy.  Sometimes they hit Bucky’s favorite diner for a truly disturbing amount of calories before heading their separate ways.  More and more frequently though, Steve shows up late at night, scrapes and bruises healing before Bucky’s eyes, hands frantic on Bucky’s skin, needing to lose himself in Bucky, except.  

Except that’s not what it feels like at all.

What it feels like is Steve finding himself in Bucky.  With every pass of Steve’s mouth on Bucky’s body, it feels like he settles more into his own skin, becomes more fully himself with every touch.  It’s beautiful, and the way he touches Bucky feels like so much more than the casual hook-up that this is.

Bucky doesn’t think much about it, just as he doesn’t think much about how he’s started keeping his fridge a little fuller, stocking things he knows Steve likes.  Steve fits so easily into Bucky’s life that he doesn’t even notice it happening.

“Hey,” Bucky says, walking up the last few steps to his apartment.  Steve is sitting on the stop step, waiting, which is weird, except - “Shit!  It’s Thursday!”

Grinning, Steve answers, “Yeah, Buck.  All day.”

As Bucky opens the door to let them both in, Steve says, “Bad time?  We can cancel.”

“No, it’s fine, come in,” Bucky says, thinking maybe losing himself in Steve for an hour is just what he needs.

“You sure?” Steve asks, following Bucky in.

“Yeah.  Yeah, sorry, just distracted.  It’s been a bitch of a day.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, with a tilt of his head.

“It’s nothing.  Just – I got two clients up my ass about design details they know nothing about, and I had to file small claims on a guy who stiffed me last month.  Just – not how I wanted to spend the day, you know?”

“A client stiffed you?  Are you okay for money?”

Bucky sighs, scrubbing the back of his neck.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  It’s not the money, it’s the principle of the thing, you know?  You do a job, have a contract, you should get paid. Too many people think they can skip out, but when you work for yourself, it all adds up.”

Steve nods, listening.

Something about it feels intimate in a way Bucky wasn’t expecting.  He’s too cranked up to really think it through.  He’s too cranked up for anything, he thinks.

“You should probably go,” Bucky says.  “I’m not good company right now.”

Steve gives him a long look.  It’s enough to make Bucky feel uncomfortable with the attention.  “You want me to go?” he asks, and steps closer to Bucky.  He runs a hand from Bucky’s  shoulder down to his wrist, and gives him a tug.  “You sure about that?”

Bucky feels lit up and hot inside, his body responding to the nearness of Steve, the touch.

Pulling Bucky in for a deep, long kiss, Steve rocks his hips up against Bucky’s before kissing down the column of his neck.  “Or do you maybe wanna work off some of that stress?”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers, before going back for more of Steve’s mouth.  He knows he’s not up for being in charge of things tonight, but maybe…maybe….  “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers against Steve’s lips.  “I want –“

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, his voice low in the way that sends sparks down Bucky’s spine.  He picks Bucky up and carries him to the bedroom, tossing him onto the bed and Jesus that is _hot_.

“Get out of those clothes,” he says, and for the first time Bucky thinks he’s met Captain America.  

Steve strips quickly, shirt and pants hitting the floor, his cock bulging through dark gray boxer briefs.  He walks to the nightstand and rifles through it, pulling out the lube and a condom and tossing them to Bucky.

“Get ready for me.  I want you on your hands and knees,” Steve says, and Bucky finds himself fumbling the cap, trying to obey orders.

He rushes it, maybe a little too much, because when Steve finally pushes in, there’s a sting and a burn, but then the hurt gives way to Steve inside of him, Steve leaning over him, filling him up and fucking him fast and hard.  He tries to participate, to move his body in time but Steve grips one hip hard and pushes Bucky’s chest down onto the bed with the other.

After that, he just feels.  Steve fucks him and fucks him and it’s brutal and gorgeous with the way that it’s the only thing Bucky knows, for as long as it goes on.

When he comes, Steve doesn’t relent.  He keeps fucking Bucky, hips slamming against Bucky’s ass, and Bucky’s so oversensitive that he’s howling and then crying with it.

“Steve,” he begs.  “Steve.”

“You need to stop?” Steve asks, breathing hard and sounding so good that Bucky pushes back against him, even though it almost hurts.

“No, I – no.”  He feels wrung out and on fire, every nerve tensed with the overstimulation, and he realizes he’s going to come again, and soon.

This time he comes with a sob, choked and gasping, and Steve follows right behind him.  He holds Bucky close as they both come down, petting his skin and leaving small, soft kisses in Bucky’s hair.

Bucky drifts to sleep like that, and when he wakes up, he finds Steve sitting up against the headboard, doing last week’s Time’s crossword in ink like the punk he is.

“Hey,” Bucky says.  “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

“You needed it,” Steve says, and Bucky realizes it’s true.

He props himself up on one arm.  “That was…thank you.  For all of it, I mean.”

Steve smiles down at him, looking lazy and soft and suddenly Bucky can’t stand it.  He leans over and scrapes a bite across Steve’s ribs, the one place where he’s ticklish. They wrestle in the bed, Steve pinning Bucky with ease, before the two of them head off to the shower, where Steve washes Bucky’s hair with gentle fingers.  It fills something up inside of Bucky, and by the time they step out, he feels whole again.

Later they have dinner: pasta with shrimp and a garlicy sauce that Bucky whips up in minutes, before Steve mentions that he needs to get going.

“Thanks again, pal,” Bucky says with a wink, when he sees Steve to the door.

Steve gives him a long look, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Anytime, _pal_ ,” he answers, before pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and leaving.

Bucky spends a few minutes trying to figure out Steve’s tone, before giving in and going back to bed.

.

**_Now_ **

Groaning, Bucky flops onto his back before giving up on sleep for good.  Sliding out of bed, he pads toward the kitchen, picking up his sweats from the floor on the way out.  If he’s not sleeping, he might as well get some work done.  He’s got three new clients who want a logo redesign and a third who wants a complete website overhaul.  At least he knows he’ll be able to keep busy.

He managed for a long time without Steve Rogers in his life and he knows he can do it again.  It’s not like Steve hasn’t given him all the signs that he’s about done with whatever this is that they’re doing.  When Bucky thinks about it, he realizes this is the first time Steve’s spent the night in over a month.  So of course Bucky falls in love with the guy the moment he starts pulling away.  Of course.

.

**_Then_ **

The first couple of times that Bucky sends Steve a text and doesn’t get a reply, he figures Steve must be busy.  It’s not unusual for them to go a few days without talking to each other, but Steve usually lets Bucky know if he’s going to be away longer than that, and while Bucky’s appreciative of the head’s up, he’s told Steve time and again that he doesn’t owe Bucky any explanations.  Bucky might not be seeing anyone else, but he sure wouldn’t begrudge Steve that if he was.  He’s not a hypocrite for fuck’s sake.

A few days later though, he starts to worry.  He says as much in his text, but again, no reply.

Bucky’s damn near ready to track Steve down at the Tower when he overhears someone talking about the Avengers while he waits in line for coffee.

“Yeah, but did you see the hit that Cap took?”

“I know.  I was so glad to see the Hulk there.  At least there was some cover to get him out.”

“Do you think Thor’s there?”

“Yeah!  I heard…”

Bucky tunes them out, wondering where Steve is, pulling out his phone to see.  It hits him, all at once and out of the blue, that he’s – he’s nothing to Steve.  No one’s going to be calling up Bucky, keeping him appraised of Steve’s condition.  Hell, he could get hurt – he could die – and Bucky’d have to hear about it on the news.

The knowledge weighs heavy on his mind all day, and he can’t quite put his finger on why.

It’s not like they owe each other anything: they’re just hooking up.

Maybe it’s the job, the idea that Steve could get really hurt out there.  Maybe it’s the fact that he’s pretty much always been _Steve_ to Bucky.  He’s never really thought of him as Captain America.

For the next few days Bucky goes about his life, and tries not to think about it.  Maybe Steve’ll call him when he gets back into town.  At the very least, he’d expect Steve to say something if he’s ending their arrangement.

But maybe he won’t.

The thought leaves Bucky feeling out of sorts.  What if he doesn’t ever see Steve again?  He can’t think of anyone who could pull off a ghosting better than Captain America.  Bucky’d be disappointed though.  He thinks more highly of Steve than that.

A week later he gives in and goes online, searching out information on the Avengers.  He finds a pap photo from a couple of days ago, Steve and the Falcon, running together in the city.

Shrugging, he closes the tab.

That’s that.

.

It’s been almost a month since he’s seen Steve and every time Bucky thinks about maybe picking up someone new, he finds he’d rather not.  It’s not like him to not move on, but then, Steve was special, wasn’t he?

He’s pretty wound up and trying to keep his attention on his work when someone pounds on his front door.

“I’m coming,” Bucky yells, when the noise doesn’t let up.  “Keep your shirt on….”

When he opens the door, Steve is there, still in his uniform, looking beat to hell.  There’s a gash across his left arm and another down his right leg.  He looks exhausted and hurt and from the dark stains near the gashes, Bucky’s sure that he’s been bleeding.

“Steve!  Jesus!  Get in here,” he says and pulls Steve in, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell?” he asks, watching as Steve unbuckles his cowl.

“I’m sorry, Buck,” he says.  “I just – I need –“  The look he gives Bucky draws everything to the fore:  Bucky’s in love with him.  Oh, Christ.  He’s in love with Steve.

“Come on,” he says, drawing Steve close.  He pulls back to start undoing the straps and buttons that hold Steve’s suit on, pushing the top half down, off his arms.  There’s a bright pink mark on his skin where he’d been cut through the suit, and he smells of blood, smoke, and concrete.

“Let’s get you showered.  Come on.”

Bucky runs the water, getting it hot enough that I’ll ease Steve’s muscles until they heal on their own.  He’s pliant under Bucky’s hands, raising his arms enough for Bucky to get his undershirt off, and then steps out of his shorts.  Otherwise he stands there, staring into nothing, letting Bucky take care of him.

It doesn’t take much thinking to convince Bucky that he should get into the shower with Steve.  Luckily it’s a big, custom shower, with five heads spraying water everywhich way.  There’s room.

Pushing Steve under the water, Bucky washes him clean with gentle hands.  Steve lets Bucky take care of him and it feels – it feels like a gift, if he’s being honest.  It feels like something he’s won.  He’s not sure what brought Steve back to him, but he’s grateful, that he knows.  His fingers gentle over bruises and scrapes.  He rubs the washcloth over one wound and watches as the scabs fall away, revealing healthy, pink skin underneath.

As Bucky’s toweling Steve dry, Steve blinks, and Bucky thinks that maybe Steve’s seeing him for the first time since he got there.  He cups Bucky’s face with both hands and kisses him, deep and needy, pleading for something.  Bucky’s heart pounds hard.  Doesn’t he know that Bucky would give him anything?

When he breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against Bucky’s, breathing deep and holding it.  “Will you –“ he asks.  “I – I want –“

“Anything,” Bucky says.  “What do you need?”

“You,” Steve breathes, and Bucky feels the tension leak out of Steve’s body.  “No games, not tonight.  Just…just you.”

“I’ve got you,” Bucky says.  When Steve looks into his eyes, Bucky can feel his own heart breaking apart.

Leading Steve to the bed, Bucky pushes him back onto it.

He takes his time, going slow and easy.  He doesn’t know why Steve sought him out after all this time, and he doesn’t know how long it will last.  He needs to savor this.  He wants to press himself into Steve’s skin, leave fingerprints so that no matter who comes after, they’ll always know that Bucky was there first.

He slicks his fingers and begins to open Steve up, get him ready for all the things that Bucky wants to do to him.  He leaves open-mouthed kisses along Steve’s sternum, and soft bites along his collar bones.  He licks against Steve’s nipples, feeling the mass of muscle beneath them flex as Steve lets out a soft gasp.

“I’m ready, I’m ready.  I want you, Buck.”

“No, you’re not,” Bucky says and he’s not going to hear an argument.  Sometimes Steve likes the burn and sting of too little prep.  But Bucky will be damned if he’s going let Steve hurt.  He won’t do it.  Not tonight.

Steve whines and Bucky pushes his tongue into Steve’s mouth, kissing him deep and Steve responds.  He clutches at Bucky, arching into the touch, fucking himself down onto Bucky’s fingers.

“I want you,” Steve groans.  “Jesus Christ I want you.”

“You have me,” Bucky answers, and kisses his way down Steve’s body.  “I’m right here.”  It’s not a confession of love, but it’s close.  It’s what he can allow himself, even if it’s just for now, just tonight.

“Buck,” Steve whines as Bucky ghosts a hot breath over his cock.  It’s hard and twitching, the tip wet and shiny and Bucky takes it into his mouth at the same time he thrusts his fingers deep.  He’s rewarded with a single gasp, and then Steve shooting hot and salty into his mouth.

Bucky keeps going, his fingers working Steve open, noticing how much easier they slide now that he’s not quite so wound up.  Steve keeps rocking into him, trying to get Bucky faster, deeper.  He looks up Steve’s body, the way he’s fisting the sheets, head thrown back, mouth wet and open.  He’s goddamned gorgeous, and he’s Bucky’s, for tonight.

He doesn’t care anymore why Steve left him alone for so long, or why he’s back now.  He’s taking what he can.  He’ll deal with the aftermath when the time comes.  Compartmentalization has always been one of his strong suits.

“Now,” Steve says, writhing against the sheets.  “Bucky, now.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Bucky says.  “Okay.”

Steve whimpers when Bucky’s fingers slide free.  He reaches out for Bucky with one hand, clutching his wrist.  The look on his face is – Bucky feels trapped, like he can’t breathe under the weight of what he feels for this man.

He bends at the same time that Steve surges up, the two of them kissing hot and hard and heavy.  It makes his chest ache.

By the time he has the condom on and is leaning over Steve, he’s resigned.  He knows he’ll never have Steve, not the way he wants him, but he’s resigned to taking what he can get, for as long as Steve will let him have it.

When he thinks about it later, he’ll think the universe is fucking hilarious.  Now though, he thinks that it’s kind; at least he’s getting _something_ .  It might not be what he wants, what he needs.  It might not be enough, but at least it’s not _nothing_.

Pushing into Steve, he watches as Steve’s eyes roll back into his head before he looks up and refocuses on Bucky.  He’s gripping Bucky’s shoulders, then his arms, his eyes asking for something and Bucky doesn’t know what.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he says, and dives in for another kiss.  Steve whimpers into his mouth, and as much as Bucky wants to pound into him, make him feel it, he can’t.  He doesn’t want this to end even a second before it has to.

Moving slow and steady, they’re chest to chest, both of them working their bodies together, creating an endless feedback loop of pleasure.

“Buck,” Steve whispers, and then he rolls them, sitting back and riding Bucky, a slow, slick slide that leaves him feeling bare, and rent.

He scrapes his fingernails up Steve’s thighs and digs his thumbs into Steve’s hips, not guiding him, but holding on, seeking connection anywhere that he can.

“You look so good, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers, and Steve chokes out a moan.  “So perfect for me, aren’t you?  Love –“ he bites back the words, swallows hard.  “Love the way you feel,” he says, and arches his back before thrusting hard, up into Steve.  He wants to take this man apart, and piece him back together again, into a Steve that wants Bucky, the way that Bucky wants him.

Bucky rolls them again because he needs – if Steve is getting off then Bucky needs to be the one who _makes_ him.  He moves faster now, hips swooping and he can feel a sheen of sweat all over.  Steve is making wrecked noises on every thrust and Bucky’s so close, so close.

“Come on sweetheart,” he pants.  “Touch yourself for me, let me see you come.”

Steve does, and Bucky can see that he’s right on the edge.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he says. “You’re perfect and I-“  He cuts himself off again, buries his face in Steve’s neck and comes.

It feels relentless, like it’s never going to stop, and he realizes it’s because Steve is coming too, whimpering Bucky’s name like it’s some kind of benediction, and Bucky wants it to be.  He wants to curl up right here, stay pressed into Steve, stay in this moment, until there’s nothing left of either of them.

They can’t though, and he knows that.

The sweat cools and they both get sticky, but neither of them moves until Bucky finally gives in, dragging them both back into the shower to clean up.

He tucks Steve into his bed, then climbs in behind him, pulling him close.  He presses kisses into Steve’s hair, and falls asleep with that scent in his nose – his shampoo mixed with Steve’s own scent.

His heart clenches inside of his chest.

.

**_Now_ **

In the morning, Bucky wakes up alone.  He’d dragged himself back to bed around four in the morning, after completing multiple drafts of a logo redesign for one client and drafting a new splash page for another.  He likes graphic and web design.  He’s good at it, and he likes the way the work lets him be inside of his own head, focused and intent.

Steve was snoring – big punk – and Bucky’d curled himself into Steve’s side, chest going light and funny when Steve wrapped an arm around him in his sleep.

Bucky knew Steve had an early morning, so he didn’t read anything into waking up alone.  Besides, they’d both agreed: this was a no-strings thing.  Wasn’t Steve’s fault that Bucky went and caught feelings.

But it’s also not something Bucky can live with.

The moment he said those words out loud, a whisper in the dark while Steve slept, Bucky knew he was done.  He can’t – he doesn’t know how to be disingenuous.  Doesn’t know how to pretend something that isn’t true. With every encounter that they’ve had from the first moment that Bucky realized his feelings to last night, Bucky catches himself fighting to say those words.

Why?  Why was it so urgent that Steve know?

Bucky can’t say, but every time he looks at Steve, it gets harder to swallow them down.

Part of him hopes.  There, in a secret corner of his heart, deep and dark and hidden, Bucky hopes that Steve will figure it out, that Steve will love him back. It gnaws at him and it’s unfair: he finally wants someone for himself and it’s the last person he can have.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to spend time with Steve now without saying it.  It’s hilarious, when he thinks about it.  The number of times he’s been on the receiving end of that statement, the hopeful look in their eyes as they spilled their feelings, the sinking feeling in his stomach, because he couldn’t say the same.

He’s not about to put Steve through that – no way.

He figures he can give himself one more night.  One more time with Steve before he cuts the cord and pretends he remembers how to live a life without Steve in it.

.

“Buck – I – Oh!” Steve cries out, arching his back, and Bucky can’t get enough.

“So good, baby,” Bucky pants, thrusting deep before pausing to kiss the back of Steve’s neck.  Leaning back, he thrusts deep again, spurred on by Steve’s wrecked cries. “Christ, look at you,” he says.  There’s a pool of sweat gathering in the small of Steve’s back, and Bucky runs a finger down Steve’s spine, before dipping his thumbs into the dimples there.

He’s losing his head – he can’t help it.  Not with Steve spread out like this for him, hips meeting his on every thrust, practically fucking himself on Bucky’s cock.

He can feel Steve winding up for his third – and probably last – orgasm.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bucky says, and pulls Steve back up with him until Steve’s back is at his chest.  He wraps one hand around Steve’s cock and the other up across Steve’s chest, holding him close as he fucks up into him.

“Come on, let go.” Bucky licks the column of Steve’s neck, tasting the clean sweat and _Steve_ , before biting down hard enough to sting, just the way Steve likes it.

“Buck,” Steve groans, his breath coming fast, movements growing jagged.  “Buck, Bucky –“  He comes, spurting wet all over Bucky’s hand while his body clamps down, squeezing Bucky’s dick and Bucky can’t hold back anymore.   

His orgasm overwhelms him, rushing through his blood and Bucky holds on, pressing deep, mouth running with obscenities.  “…so fucking good for me, aren’t you Stevie?  Christ, you feel so good, love you so much, love you so fucking much.”

Then his brain catches up with his mouth and he stills, orgasm still washing warm through his body, as his stomach sinks.

“I –“ he starts.  Steve is holding perfectly still. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Bucky says, and pulls away from Steve as gracefully as possible, given the circumstances.

Self-loathing sits in his stomach, greasy and wet, as he walks to the bathroom and cleans up.  By the time he’s disposed of the condom and splashed cool water over his face, he’s ready to go clean up his mess.

“Come on, loverboy,” he says, taking in the flat, gray stare of the man in the mirror.  “Let’s do this.”

When he walks into his bedroom, Steve is sitting up in the bed, sheets pooling around his waist.

Bucky can’t for the life of himself find in him to face this conversation.  Instead, he says, “Sorry.  Guess the milk’s gone off on our little arrangement.”  He chances a glance at Steve’s face, but there’s nothing there that Bucky can read.  

“Look,” he says, and God, he can’t look at Steve and say this.  He stares at the space to the left of Steve’s lap.  “Neither one of us wants this, I know that.  Just….”  He shrugs, still staring into the middle distance.

“Buck.  Come on, can’t we talk about this?”

Bucky smiles because if he doesn’t he’s going to cry.  “Nothing to talk about, Stevie, you know that.  I’m - I’m gonna hit the shower.  Can you lock up when you go?  If you leave anything behind I’ll get it over to tower.”

“Just wait.  Buck, please.”

Chancing a look at Steve, Bucky immediately regrets it.  He looks - Jesus, he looks awful, and Bucky can sympathize.  No one wants to be on the other end of this conversation.  Bucky’s been there often enough to know.

“Take care, Stevie,” Bucky says, and walks away.  In the shower, he stands under the spray of the water until it runs cold.

Three days later he’s got his niece, Georgie, on his knee, her dark curls bouncing as she grins.

“More, Bughee! More!”  He gives her a hard bounce and she shrieks and claps her hands.  He can’t help but smile back at her.  It feels weird on his face.  He’s spent the last few days keeping busy – running his favorite path through Prospect Park, taking on new clients and most nights, falling asleep in his armchair, laptop in his lap, cursor blinking and ready to go.

“That’s enough,” Becca says, and lifts Georgie from his lap.  “You’re gonna bounce her ‘til she pukes. Again.  Marty?”  She calls for her husband and he takes Georgie, tossing her over his shoulder to her delight.

Bucky smiles and watches them go as Becca sits beside him.

“You look like shit,” she says, but lays a hand on his forearm.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky says automatically.

“Work going okay?  You said you were looking at taking on some new clients.”

“Yeah, Becs, work’s great.  I’m just….” He shrugs.

“Hrmph,” she says, and Bucky knows the grilling’s not over yet.  “Seeing anyone?” she asks, and Bucky’s heart sinks a little further.

Becca leans back to look at his face.  “Ohhh,” she says, and he knows that she knows.  They’re eleven months apart, and he’s never been able to hide from her.

“Oh,” she says again, her voice going soft.  “Want to talk about it?” she offers.

“Nah,” Bucky says.  He does…and he doesn’t.  He mostly just wanted the comfort of family, and with his Ma in Indiana, this’ll have to do.

The rest of his visit goes by easy, but when he leaves, he realizes it didn’t do anything to ease the ache in his chest.

He thought about it, pouring his heart out to Becs, but in the end, no.  He’s been walking around feeling like he’s swallowed a handful of marbles – his stomach feeling leaden and full.  He doesn’t want to share that, be that burden on anyone.

It’s just – Steve crept into his life in a hundred little ways.  Bucky’s used to waking up at odd hours with Steve at his front door, wiped out or pumped up, coming off of his latest mission.  He’s used to keeping honey in his cupboard, because Steve likes it in his coffee on days when he’s letting himself have nice things.  He’s used to saving the crosswords from the paper, so that Steve can do them in pen, the prick.  He’s used to _Steve_.

He misses him.

Bucky remembers a moment from about two months ago.  Steve showed up at his door, in clean clothes but filthy under them, and three bags of take-out in his hands.  Bucky’d hustled him into the shower and then to the bed, giving Steve a pair of clean sweats, soft and worn against Steve’s skin.  

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve said, and leaned his head against the headboard.  By the time Bucky returned with the take-out, Steve was half asleep.  His chest was littered with bruises, and Bucky’d gasped when he realized that one of them was in the shape of a fist.  

He’d pushed Steve down into the sheets before leaning over him, kissing soft against the bruised skin, watching as it healed beneath his mouth.  

By the time he looked up, Steve was snoring softly and his skin was pale and smooth and Bucky’s heart was hammering hard.

Christ.  Could he be any less self-aware?  He’s been in love with Steve for months.

He sat up the rest of the night, worrying over Steve, watching as the minor wounds healed, one by one.

Bucky likes his life.  He’s a good son, and the best uncle, and excellent brother, and he’s good at his job.  There isn’t much that he wants for, and he’d sure never expected to find himself on this end of one of his arrangements.

He’d managed to hide it from himself for so long, but once he knew (of course you love him, of course) he could hardly keep it to himself.

Which is how he finds himself where he is now:  In the lobby of Stark tower, handing over a gym bag that contains two shirts, a pair of boxer-briefs, a pair of sweats and three mismatched socks.  Bucky put Sunday’s crossword in there.  He’d been saving it, but now?  No point.

As he walks through the spinning doors of the tower, he knows it’s time to start putting the past behind him.  Funny thing is, he’s just not sure how.

.

It’s late Friday night and he’s home alone, working on his second glass of wine.  He’s hoping that if he gets through the whole bottle, he’ll be able to sleep through the night.  Lately he tosses and turns, which makes no sense at all.  It’s not like Steve slept over all the time.

He just…misses him.  Wants to look over and see him reading a book or fidgeting with his phone.  Wants to watch him stuff gross amounts of food into his face and wake up in the middle of the night to Steve’s snoring.

He wonders if maybe it is time to settle down.  Maybe this is the sign he’s been looking for.  Maybe he should meet someone nice and have a couple of kids, maybe buy a house.

The idea doesn’t feel right, though.  As much as he loves Becca’s kids, he’s coming to realize that maybe he doesn’t want kids of his own.  Maybe he doesn’t want to buy a house in the suburbs either.  Maybe…maybe the dream he’s been waiting for isn’t actually a dream he has for himself.

He’s startled out of his ruminations by a knocking at the door.  When he answers, he’s speechless.

Steve is standing there in jeans, a navy t-shirt and leather jacket.  Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone look so good.

They stare at each other for a few moments, Steve looking somehow surprised that Bucky’s there.  Bucky realizes with a start that his mouth is hanging open.

“What – ah, what are you doing here?” he asks.

That seems to snap Steve into motion.  “You said – You said –“ He pauses and looks around the empty hallway.  “Can I come in?” he asks, his tone irritated and shit, yes, of course.

“Sorry, yeah.”  Bucky stands aside and Steve enters, and Bucky closes the door behind him.

“Thanks,” Steve says, and looks around.  Bucky stands with his back to the door, waiting for whatever it is that Steve might say.

“You said,” Steve starts again and then stops.  He stares at Bucky, taking him in.  Bucky’s definitely overdue for a haircut, the length on top getting a bit fluffy.  He has two days’ stubble across his jaw, and he suspects that what Becca said is painfully accurate: He looks like shit.

Bucky scrubs the back of his neck with his hand, ducking his head.  He knows he can’t avoid this, so he walks back to the living room to get his glass of wine.  He wishes for a moment that he was a little further into that bottle of wine for this, but it is what it is.

When he turns to look, Steve is standing there, staring at him, that pissed off, disappointed dad look that Bucky knows from post-mission interviews, and the few times that the press has tracked him down when he’s been doing something so audacious as to live his life in public.

“Look,” Bucky starts, and then realizes he has no idea where he’s going with this.  He breathes deep and sets his glass down.

“Buck,” Steve says and oh, God, there is so much disappointment in that voice.

“Steve,” Bucky says, holding his hand out, asking Steve to stop.  “I can’t, okay?  I can’t just keep going like we were.  I would if I could.”

“And you think I can?” Steve asks, and he’s looking at Bucky like he’s actually insane.

Bucky shrugs and holds his arms out.  He’s agitated, and it takes everything he has not to pace.  “Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m _here_ because you said – you said –“  Steve walks to where Bucky is standing, and then stops.  He’s close enough that Bucky can feel his body heat, and his stomach drops.  He is going to make such a fool of himself.  He can’t be this close to Steve and not touch him.

He’s bracing himself for it, for how much of himself he’s about to give up.  If Steve is actually going to ask Bucky to keep going, he doesn’t know how he’s going to say no.

Steve brings one hand to Bucky’s hip, and the other he brings to Bucky’s jaw, stroking along the scruff there. The look in his eyes is…Bucky can’t name it.  It’s strong and bright and hits Bucky like a punch in the gut.

“You said,” Steve says, for the hundredth time that night.  “You said that you’d give me anything I want.  All I have to do is ask.”

Bucky nods, trapped by Steve, his closeness.

“I want you.  I don’t want this – this stupid arrangement, not anymore.  I never did.  I’m in love with you, Buck.  I have been for months.  I’ve just been…waiting for you to catch up.”

Bucky’s – oh, Christ, is he crying?  He’s actually got tears in his eyes, but then it’s okay, because Steve does too, and it’s – God, he’s never felt this before, like he’s flying and drowning, both at once.

“You’re in love with me?” he asks, and okay, his voice didn’t waver that much.

“For months,” Steve says, and then he leans forward, brings his other hand up to cup Bucky’s face, like he did that time in the bathroom, and Bucky feels – he feels treasured, and loved, and precious and when Steve’s lips touch his, Bucky has to bite back a sob.

He’s been walking around heartsick, heartbroken, for days now, and he didn’t have to.  He could have had – he could have had everything.

Bucky surges up into the kiss, bringing his arms around Steve, pulling him flush.  When Steve breaks the kiss, he leans his forehead against Bucky’s breathing hard.

He pulls away, looking Bucky in the eye.  “Are we gonna do this?”

Nodding, Bucky leans up for another kiss.  “I want to.  I want you.”

Steve’s smiling into their next kiss, and when he pulls back, Bucky’s smiling too.  They kiss until they’re smiling too hard to hold it, until they’re both giddy in their happiness, in their newly discovered love.

They stumble to the couch and sit, Steve in Bucky’s lap.

“What, you’re gonna sit on me so I can’t get away?”

“Damn right,” Steve answers, before leaning down for another long kiss.

“God, I was such an asshole,” Bucky says, the next time they come up for air.  “What made you come back?”

“You mean who,” Steve says, eyes sparkling.

“Who?” Bucky says.  “Do I need to be worried?”

“Let’s just say Natasha was very persuasive.”

“Natasha.  The Black Widow.  She’s the one who made you come back here?”  Bucky’s head spun a little.  He’d always been able to separate Steve from his job, but…the Black Widow?  Jesus, that’s some company to be keeping.

“Said she was tired of looking at my mopey mug, but she used fewer words and was more menacing.  She told me to be sure you were worth it.”

Bucky might not be a stranger to self-doubt, but he wouldn’t say they’re friends. The sensation is unfamiliar, and unwelcome.

“Hey,” Steve says, responding to the change in Bucky’s demeanor.   “Don’t.  You’re worth it. You’re –“ he sits back, looking around.  “You’re everything.  Bucky, you’re everything.”  He leans down for another kiss, and Bucky leans up into it.

“I love you,” Bucky says, and it’s the happiest he’s ever been.  “Stevie, I’m so stupid over you and your snoring and your honey and your crosswords.”

“My honey…?”

“You think I haven’t noticed you and the honey?  Steve, you’re allowed to have honey in your coffee if you want it.  Every single day, if you want it.”

Steve blushes and it’s so fucking cute that Bucky kisses him and chases the blush with his mouth, until he’s pulled down the neck of Steve’s shirt to get at it.

“What are you doing?” Steve laughs.               

“I wanna see how far down it goes.”

“You _know_ how far down it goes.”

“I know,” Bucky grins.  “But I wanna see anyway.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “You’re incorrigible.”

“And I’m yours,” Bucky says, sliding his hands up under Steve’s shirt, feeling that expanse of smooth, hot skin.

“You’re just trying to get me naked,” Steve says, but he shrugs out of his jacket just the same.

“Please, Rogers,” Bucky says, shoving Steve’s shirt up and mouthing at his chest.  “You’re dying for me to fuck you.”

“Well,” Steve groans, as Bucky sucks hard at one nipple.  “You’re not lying.”

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”

.

_**Future Perfect** _

 

“Mister Barnes?”

Bucky startles, still not used to the AI that can override the silence settings on his phone.

“Yeah, uh, Mister, Jarvis?”

“Captain Rogers wishes you to know that he’s just touched down.  He expects to be at your residence in approximately forty-five minutes.”

“Finally!  Thank you – uh, thanks, Jarvis.”

“My pleasure, Mister Barnes.”

Bucky gets up out of bed and puts a pot of coffee on.  He’s got cold beer in the fridge and a stack of take out cartons on the dining room table.

If he knows his Stevie – and he does – he’ll be starving and in desperate need of a shower by the time he get to Bucky’s apartment.

It hasn’t always been easy, the two of them coming together.  Bucky’s still intimidated by the Avengers as a whole, but he’s gotten to know Natasha and Sam, and Bruce has been surprisingly nice.  Supportive.

For his part, Steve’s still just as much a fish out of water in Bucky’s life.  He’d been hilariously cautious of Bucky’s niece and nephew, and had outright refused to hold the new baby.

“Buck,” he said, eyes pleading, as Bucky'd tried to hand him the baby.  “Don’t.  I could –“

“You couldn’t if you tried,” Bucky said, but he didn’t force the issue either.

Still, he has Steve in his bed most nights, and he’s getting to know his way around the tower.  Pepper Potts approached him about doing some freelance work, which Bucky stubbornly refused.

“Is it so crazy to think that you’re actually talented?”

“Talented enough to not need a handout, that’s for sure.”

“It’s not a handout!  Jesus, Buck, why can’t you just –“

“Be very careful, Stevie.  I get by on my own.”

“Baby,” Steve says, softening and pulling Bucky close.  “Thing is, you don’t have to.”

“You let me run my business my way,” Bucky says, but lets Steve arrange him onto his lap.

“Stubborn as a mule,” Steve says, before pulling Bucky down for a dirty kiss.

“Takes one to know one.” Bucky answers, and after that, there’s no more talking.

Steve still has a dangerous job, and Bucky’s still not good at asking for what he needs.  But between them, they make it work.  Every morning and every night.  When things are easy, they’re so, so good.  But when things are hard, when there are raised voices and slammed doors, well, those are the things that make the easy days so much sweeter.  They might never be perfect.  But what they’ve got?  Bucky wouldn’t trade for the world.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Fic Recs: 
> 
> [I read a Fic ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13509228) is a song parody about fandom and holy shit, it's hilarious. (spoiler: bucky had a really big dick).
> 
> [ The Captain and the Cam Boy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13314171/chapters/30472185) is smutty angsty hotness. Come for the porn! Stay for the feels!!


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